


Finding Reality

by aztecwarfareandcrumping



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Introspection, Worry, what is real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:19:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aztecwarfareandcrumping/pseuds/aztecwarfareandcrumping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A warm, heavy hand lands on his upper arm. “This is the dream, darling. It’s alright. We’ll wake up in a moment.”<br/>Arthur breathes out shakily, looking at Eames for the first time since he got in the car, eyes uncertain and panicked.<br/>“I know. I know. It’s a dream. We’re dreaming.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Reality

**Author's Note:**

> I have a much longer Inception piece in the works, but I figured I'd put this out there to see if there was still interest in these idiots.

Arthur sits in the running car in the cool dawn of morning. The car’s engine makes a slight chugging noise in the silence, and the deserted back street is grey. The sun will be up soon, but for now the brooding clouds blot out any warmth or light. A plastic bag blows across the road, and Arthur takes a sip of his tea, trying to shake off his sleepiness. He’s really a coffee person. The steam from the milky liquid rises in the cool interior of the car. Arthur flips on the heater. Leaves blow in little whirlwinds, making miniature tornados. Arthur checks his watch, biting his lip. He shouldn’t feel anxious. He’s professional. But that doesn’t stop the cold grip of anxiety that clenches in his chest. There’s a burst of cold wind and the smell of rain as the door is opened, and Eames slides into the passenger side. Arthur puts the car into drive.

“You got it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Eames picks up the Styrofoam cup and takes a swig. He comes away with a grimace. “You really need to learn how to make a proper cup of tea, darling.”

Arthur could say, “I drink coffee” or “That’s what she said” or “I don’t exist to please you”, but the anxious feeling in his chest has dissipated, so he just smiles grimly and focuses on carrying out the next part of the plan.

“I mean, I appreciate it, but really.... it’s too weak. Not enough milk-”

“There’s practically a pint in there!” Arthur bursts out, eyes still on the road.

Eames holds up a hand in a placating gesture. “Now, now, I’m not criticizing, just critiquing. You’ll learn.”

“Don’t need to.” Arthur grits out.

Eames senses Arthur’s discomfort and quiets, downing the tea in one gulp. He winces as it burns its way down.

“Can’t we just find a wall to-”

“It’s all timed out. We’ve got three minutes, and we’ve got to keep moving. There’s a bridge a few miles up.”

“So specific.” Eames jibs, half praising, half demeaning.

“Thank goodness one of us is.”

Leaves swirl in circles behind them, dancing pillars of gold, pink, red, and orange.

“Did anyone suspect anything? When you were in there.”

“No one seemed the wiser. Quit fretting, luv.”

Arthur takes strength from the affectionate term. Music starts to slowly play, the sound distorted and low. Arthur comes to a stop in front of the bridge.

“Are you up for it? I could drive.” Eames offers.

“I’ve got this.” Arthur grinds out. He has to. It’s his job. He fingers his die, checking the balance.

A warm, heavy hand lands on his upper arm. “This is the dream, darling. It’s alright. We’ll wake up in a moment.”

Arthur breathes out shakily, looking at Eames for the first time since he got in the car, eyes uncertain and panicked.

“I know. I know. It’s a dream. We’re dreaming.”

The music swells, and they both know it’s time. Arthur puts the car in gear. Pushes the gas pedal. The car breaks through the railing, and they’re falling, falling, down. Eames’ hand grips Arthur’s arm, a steady constant in a world of shifting realities.

They wake across the room from each other. Cobb is there, packing up their stuff. Arthur should help him. It’s his job. They’ve got to get moving. Arthur brushes up against Eames on his way. The point man tugs on the forger’s cuff, and they both walk away feeling relieved.


End file.
